Come to me ye minions

   and I will sell you smoke and fog;

     allow you to bathe in my fountains of oil;

   and free you from the far madding mob.

Come tell me your opinions

   from your position in the bog.

     I will reward your loyalty and toil,

   cheating you out of your money and your job.

Profit is my motive.

I have no other course.

Your coins are my sacred votive.

Your weakness is my force.

In the fields and in the city,

   the crops and buildings burn.

Your misfortune is a pity,

   but none of my concern.

Spring 2008